


Little Failings

by ArtjuiceRP, foundmyhome



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Drug Use, Multiple Pairings, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2018-06-04 12:39:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6658081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtjuiceRP/pseuds/ArtjuiceRP, https://archiveofourown.org/users/foundmyhome/pseuds/foundmyhome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>University AU: Student housing with six strangers doesn't have to be a disaster. In Emma Swan's case, it definitely is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. S01E01

**Author's Note:**

> Based off the British TV series Fresh Meat. This fic is endgame Captain Swan. Hope you enjoy it!

**  Episode 1 **

Emma Swan wasn't sure what she expected to see when she first walked into the university appointed housing, but a boy spinning in a cape in front of a crime board wasn't it.

"Um, hey." Emma dropped her bags on the floor, raising an eyebrow when the boy held up a finger and scribbled on a piece of paper. He tacked it to the board before turning to her and grinning.

"I'm Henry," he introduced.

"Emma. You in law, too?" She gestured to the crime board.

Henry flushed. "No, that's my storyboard."

"Hah!" Emma jumped at the loud guffaw coming from the couch and for the first time, she noticed the third person in the room.

"That's Jefferson," Henry said. Jefferson grinned at Emma, wiggling his fingers in a half hearted wave before jerking his thumb towards Henry's storyboard.

"It's about Robin," he told her, clearly amused.

Emma bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. "Like, Batman and Robin?"

"Just Robin," Henry said and Jefferson started laughing again. "He's a much better character!"

"Of course he is," Jefferson nods, emphatically, before winking at Emma.

"He _is_!"

"I thought _I_ was the one on drugs."

"How about we take a look around?" She interrupted. Henry perked up, slipping the cape over his head and draping it over the chair.

"I will be your tour guide," Henry announced, as though it could have been someone else. "We start in the living room slash dining room slash kitchen, or as it's better known, the Hub."

"I don't think anyone's ever called it that," Jefferson interrupted. "Maybe the lounge or Nerd HQ, but not that. Nothing with a crimeboard that stupid can be called the Hub."

" _Storyboard_."

With a dramatic sweep of his arm, Henry gestured to the door to the hall. Emma followed his directions, Henry trailing after her, and she was soon in the sparse corridor. From the look on Henry's face, she had strange feeling she was supposed to be impressed, but she'd already walked through the hallway and there was nothing there to be interested in.

"That door there's for the toilet," Henry told her after a few minutes without a response. "And the 'cupboard under the stairs', well, that goes down to my Batcave."

"Your Batcave?"

"You could also call it my bedroom."

"Right."

"You know, if Batman had a stereo system, it would be just like mine," Henry informed her. "No Batcave is complete without a Batspeaker system that can be heard throughout the world. Or house."

The first floor was just as uninteresting. The single lightbulb lighting the landing had no lampshade and the walls were painted a dull grey. Emma grimaced at the sight, but again, Henry seemed oblivious to the drabness.

"The rest of the house is basically bedrooms," Henry said before pointing at the door in the centre of the landing. "Not that room though. That's a bathroom. The shower requires some pretty decent physical strength to get it going, but you look like you have the arms for it. Also, the water never really gets any hotter than tepid."

"So, is one of these going to be my bedroom?" Emma asked, gesturing at the doors on either side of her. "Or are they all taken?"

"You can have that one," Henry told her, gesturing to the one furthest from the stairs, on the left. "Or the one opposite. The other two are full."

They continued onto the top floor, where there were another three doors. Emma was expecting some more information on the bathroom, but instead Henry crept over to the door furthest from the landing and pushed it.

"It doesn't open," he said quietly. "Not since Ruby moved in a few days ago."

"Ruby?"

"The other tenant," he whispered, emphasising his words with jazz hands. "The only time she's left her room since getting here was last night. On the full moon." Emma didn't really know what to say to that, so she just nodded and smiled. "Anyway, the other room is Jefferson's and then there's another bathroom. And that's the house."

"It's…" Great wasn't the right word, but Henry looked too proud of the house for Emma to pretend to be anything other than enthusiastic. "Really nice."

"It is, isn't it?" Henry agreed. "Now, I guess you can pick your room."

The two of them had only just stepped onto the first floor when Emma heard the creak of a door opening, and when she looked towards the noise, she saw a young woman resting against the doorframe and watching her and Henry.

"Um, hi?" Emma said awkwardly, raising her hand in a small wave. "I'm guessing you live here, too."

"Yeah," the girl answered. "It's nice to see that I won't be entirely surrounded by guys here."

"Well, there's Ruby."

"Apparently. I haven't actually seen her."

"I'm Emma, by the way," she announced. "And you are?"

"Lacey," The three of them stood in an uncomfortable silence for a few minutes, neither of them knowing what to say. Emma tugged on the hem of her jumper and Lacey twirled her hair around her finger as each of them waited for the other to speak. "So…"

"So."

"What A levels did you do?"

"History, Maths, and Politics," Emma answered easily. "And Critical Thinking, but I don't think that really counts. You?"

"Philosophy, English Lit, and English Language."

"I did English, too," Henry piped up. "Along with Psychology and Dance."

There was another awkward silence, and then Emma couldn't take it anymore. "Well, it's nice to meet you but I really should get my stuff out of the car." She told them. "I don't want to leave my laptop out there any longer than I have to."

"Need any help?" Lacey asked.

"No, it's fine," Emma reassured her, already starting towards the stairs. "I don't exactly own much. It'll be two trips max."

~~~*~~~

Emma had intended to unpack, but after she'd haphazardly placed her photo of her and Ingrid on the slightly lopsided bedside table, she couldn't be bothered to do anything more. Instead, she'd just flopped back onto her sheetless mattress and stared at the ceiling.

It looked like someone had somehow spilt tea on the there, and if Emma squinted, it looked a little bit like a dragon.

"Hello?"

The last thing Emma had expected to hear after finally managing to relax was someone else's voice, and the fact that she had no idea where it had come from was hardly comforting. Maybe she was just exhausted after her drive up, several hours of which had been spent in a traffic jam, but even then, she figured that hearing voices probably wasn't the best sign.

"Is someone there?"

She'd definitely heard _something_ , so unless university had already managed to drive her crazy, someone was talking to her.

"Um, are you talking to me?" Emma asked awkwardly, still not sure who she was speaking and hoping she wasn't as mad as she looked.

"Yeah," the voice replied. "Although for a few minutes, I was starting to think I was talking to myself."

"Where are you?"

"The other room," they told her. "I think this used to be one big room and then they built a really shit wall to make it into two. From the look of the hole, I wouldn't be surprised if the wall was literally cardboard."

As the man spoke, Emma glanced at the wall behind her bed. It looked like cardboard was probably an exaggeration, but whatever it _was_ made out of was very thin. "What do you mean, the hole?"

She shouldn't have asked. As soon as she looked to the right, she could see what he was talking about. Right there, right next to her bed, there was a hole about two inches wide.

"Don't ask me why it's there," he said quickly. "Who knew a student house would come with its own Glory Hole?"

Emma had been considering peering through it to see who she was talking to but his words made her freeze in horror. "I'm sorry, _what_?"

"Not that _I_ …" Whoever was talking sounded startled. "I don't mean that I would… I'm sure not every Glory Hole has to be used like _that_."

"I don't think that Glory Hole has to be used at all," Emma pointed out. "Just because it's there doesn't mean you need to stick something in it."

"God, no!" He yelped. "I meant… here."

She watched as the man's finger poked through the hole, and although she couldn't suppress a snigger, she still reached out and took hold of it, shaking it as though everything was totally normal and she was just shaking the hand of someone she'd just met.

Not someone's finger stuck through what she was always going to think of as a Glory Hole.

"So, what A Levels did you do?" the voice asked, just at the same moment as Emma realised that she'd been holding onto his finger for far too long to be normal. "I did Geography and Biology. And my dad kind of forced me into taking English Lit."

"A Levels?" Emma repeated, thrown by the question. She'd been prepared to hear it many times, but not from someone sounding as American as she did. "You did those? Aren't you from America?"

There was a long pause, and then he wriggled his finger out of her grip and back through the hole. "Of course I am," he answered. "Obviously. That is where I'm from. But you have to do them to go to a British university and I wanted to get away from all the… eagles, stripes and, you know, freedom."

"I didn't know that!" Emma said in surprise. "Not that I've thought about it. My mom and I came over here a few years ago, so I just did them at school and then applied. I do kind of miss it back there though."

"Yeah, me too," he agreed. "I really miss… the President."

"I was thinking more about the lack of rain, but sure," Emma muttered with a frown. "Whatever floats your boat."

The room was silent after that, but Emma was suddenly all too aware of the guy on the other side of the wall. She'd been prepared for _less_ privacy after arriving at uni, but not to this extent. He would probably be able to hear everything, even her movements, and she didn't even know his name.

"Dudes, we're going drinking!" Emma breathed out a loud sigh of relief at the sound of Jefferson's shouting. "Grab some cash and let's go."

She didn't even think about it. She just grabbed her purse and jacket, slid on her leather boots, and headed straight for the door. The mysterious man had clearly had the same idea, as when Emma stepped onto the landing, the first thing she saw was a guy coming out the room next to hers.

He sent her a sheepish smile the moment he noticed her. Emma did the same, her gaze running quickly over the disheveled hair, slouched shoulders and kind, brown eyes. "I guess you're who I was talking to," she stated, her smile widening at his nod. "I'm Emma."

"Neal."

"Nice to meet you," Emma told him. "And then see you."

Neal offered her his hand, but before she could shake it, she heard someone rushing up the stairs, and then Jefferson burst onto the landing. He raised an eyebrow, looking first at Emma and Neal and then over to Henry and Lacey.

"Are you guys coming or am I going to be drinking enough booze for five by myself?"

~~~*~~~

The music pounded in her ears before they'd even slipped through the doors, the loud vibrations matched with boisterous laughter from the crowd. Emma squared her shoulders and trailed behind Jefferson.

"Over there!" Lacey elbowed her way past them to rush towards a recently emptied table. She threw her jacket on it, glaring when a guy attempted to set his beer down. He slunk away and Emma slid in the booth next to Lacey.

Jefferson slung his coat on the back of a chair and opened his arms wide. "The smell of pints and desperation. I love uni."

"Yeah," Lacey agreed quickly. "It's only our first day but I love it."

Jefferson patted her on top of the head. "Drinks, ladies?"

"Yes," Emma started to stand but Jefferson waved her off.

"Yeah, a pint sounds brilliant," Lacey handed him her wallet and he extracted a few bills.

"On Lacey, then, yeah?" He winked at her before shooting through the crowd to get to the bar.

Though Lacey seemed perfectly nice, if a little preoccupied with impressing Jefferson, Emma struggled to think of a conversation starter once they were alone.

They looked at one another. Emma smiled and Lacey offered one back before they both glanced away.

The music filled the space between them and Emma tapped her foot to it, although she wasn't fond of the song. She looked for Jefferson, laughing when she saw he was leaning across the bar, batting his eyelashes at the bartenders. She nudged Lacey, rolling her eyes towards him.

"He works fast," Emma muttered.

"I wonder if we'll get our drinks, after all." She grinned.

"Probably not." They watched as he threw his hands to his heart, his groan audible even across the room, before the girl moved away and he shrugged, turning to the boy next to her to restart his flirting. "Bounces back fast, doesn't he?"

"Jefferson is so cool," Lacey said. Emma raised an eyebrow and Lacey's eyes widened. "Not, like, that I don't know a ton of cool people. Because I do."

"Of course you do," Emma replied dryly.

Lacey glared, straightening up and tossing her hair over one side of her shoulder. "I do. A _lot_. I met the coolest people during my gap year. Jefferson just is also cool, which I recognized, because I'm around so many cool people."

Emma leaned closer to the girl, trying to soften her expression. "Do you like him?"

"Like him! Like him as in _fancy_ him?" Lacey scoffed. "Please. He's just-"

"Cool, yeah, got that." Emma sat back, relieved to find that Lacey hadn't developed any crushes on their housemate. He was nice but Emma had always been good at reading people and knew, with a fair amount of certainty, that he and Lacey would never work in that way.

"Where's Neal and Henry at, anyway?" They had all walked into the pub together but both boys had disappeared from the moment they walked in.

Lacey frowned, craning her neck to look around the room. "I don't- Oh, there!" She pointed and, clear across the room, she could see Neal leaning against the wall chatting up a blonde. She was tall and leggy and _way_ out of Neal's league. Emma exchanged a grin with Lacey, who was snickering quietly at the sight, as well.

Henry was sat at the table nearest to Neal, scribbling in his notebook. Emma wondered why he even came if he was still writing, but he looked happy enough so she didn't pay him much attention.

Three sloshing pints shot onto the table and Emma raised her eyes to a grinning Jefferson. "Pints for my peeps!" He declared and Emma realized that she really, really didn't understand what the hell Lacey was talking about.

"You're a fucking dork," she told him, honestly, before grabbing a beer. "Thanks, though."

"Am not," Jefferson pouted, tossing himself into the chair his coat was draped over. He took a huge gulp of his drink, rubbing the back of his hand over his mouth.

"How much was that each?" Lacey asked and Jefferson frowned. Emma raised her mug to hide her laugh when Lacey immediately began to backtrack. "I mean, first round's on me, of course."

"Right, cheers." Jefferson lifted his glass towards them and took another huge gulp.

He looked over his shoulder and sighed before turning back to them and wiggling his eyebrows. "Isn't that bartender so hot?"

Emma glanced over to see the two hapless victims Jefferson had been flirting with in conversation behind the bar. "Which one?"

"Both," he cried. "They're both so hot."

He blew a kiss towards them; the girl rolled her eyes and the boy shook his head, but both were smiling.

"I'm going to sleep with one of them. Or both." he declared and Emma couldn't help but be amused by the blatant determination on his face. Lacey coughed before taking a long pull of her drink.

"Tonight?" She asked.

"Of course," Jefferson laughed. Emma and Lacey exchanged a glance.

"That's fast."

" _That's_ uni," He argued. "Come on, it's the first night! You don't want to have a shit year so you can't have a shit first night!"

Emma didn't really follow his logic but Lacey seemed to agree, nodding emphatically.

"Right, yeah." Lacey finished her drink.

Jefferson jumped out of his chair and slid next to them on the bench, nudging Emma over until she was pressed tightly between her two new flatmates. He threw his arm around her shoulders, his fingertips grazing Lacey's arm. "I've made my selection, ladies. Now let us choose yours."

Emma rolled her eyes, wrapping her hands around the pint. "No, thanks."

"Come _on_ , Emma!" Jefferson's voice was tinged with a whine that reminded Emma of why she never wanted kids.

"Yeah, Emma," Lacey jumped in. "We're at uni now! We need to, I don't know, get the full experience. Live our lives, you know."

"Exactly," Jefferson patted the side of her head and Emma felt briefly like a child, though instead of being reminded to do chores she was being encouraged to shag a stranger in the name of college memories. "You find a hottie, you sleep with said hottie, you're ready for lessons tomorrow!"

Lacey put her elbow on the table, leaning her chin into the palm of her hand as she scanned the room. "That one's pretty," she said, jutting her head towards the bar. Emma was a bit surprised that she agreed.

"Go get him," she encouraged. Lacey laughed, recoiling and shaking her head.

"No, no way." Emma exchanged a glance with Jefferson and Lacey shrugged. "I'm not into pretty boys."

Jefferson leaned in, conspiratorially, and Lacey followed suit until Emma could see both of their eager faces in her peripheral vision. With more enthusiasm than Emma found necessary for the situation, Jefferson whispered out, "You should do him!"

"I should not," she replied automatically.

"He's hot," Jefferson frowned, cocking his head to look more closely at the guy. "You _have_ to sleep with him, not even I can bag him and my bartenders all tonight."

Emma glanced back at Pretty Boy and admitted that with his dark hair and bright eyes, he wasn't a _bad_ choice for a first night fuck.

"What do you have to lose? It's practically a rite of passage!"

"You're right."

The pair looked as surprised as Emma felt when she agreed with them. But they _were_ right- at least, she thought they were. Sleeping with a stranger the first night of uni practically was tradition and they'd all been staring at Pretty Boy for so long that he had seemed to notice, practically preening as he stretched to give them a better view.

She grabbed her glass and chugged the last few swallows of her beer before standing up and pulling her leather jacket tight around her frame. "Now or never," she said and Jefferson wolf whistled while Lacey cheered.

The crowd was a bit thinner than it was when they first arrived, but the music seemed to pound louder. Or it was her pulse, thrumming aggressively inside her ears by the time she reached the bar.

He was already watching her, his gaze appreciatively dancing up and down her frame. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your beautiful presence?"

Emma scoffed and grabbed the drink out of his hand. She downed it, feeling the warm liquid loosen the muscles on her shoulders. She always did like rum. "You sound posh."

He grinned, his tongue slipping from between his lips to run suggestively over the bottom swell of his lip. "You say that like it's a bad thing, love."

"It is," she looked longingly at the empty tumbler in her hand and he snapped loudly. The bartender came over to refill it, looking annoyed. It was a prickish way to get someone's attention, but Emma swallowed the alcohol quickly regardless. "I'm Emma."

"Killian Jones, at your service." He sidled closer and if he wasn't somehow prettier up close, Emma would have punched him for being such a prat.

As it was, she groaned. "Are you always this obnoxious?"

He shrugged, grinning wolfishly. "Are you always this prickly?"

"I'm not prickly," she denied quickly. He smirked and tugged at the bottom of his sweater, pulling it so it was tight against his chest, the start of a light smattering of chest hair peeking out from the lowered collar. It was obvious, but effective. Emma decided to hell with it and she slipped her hand into his before tugging him out of the bar. She could hear Jefferson hooting after them all the way through the door.

~~~*~~~

The floorboards creaked when they walked up the stairs and Emma winced, hoping no one was home to question her. She stopped, peeking her head over the railing, but it seemed like everyone was still at the bar and the mysterious Ruby wasn't around, so she waved Killian on up the stairs.

She hesitated at the door, fists clenching on either side of her body as she considered. This was quite possibly a huge mistake. The guy was hot, yeah, but he was also a bit of a prat. She felt light from the pint and rum she'd had and when she peaked at him from the corner of her eye, he was smiling at her with a raised eyebrow.

Pushing thoughts of what the people back home would think, Emma grabbed his hand and led him through her bedroom door.

Her room was still fairly empty, her two boxes still unpacked and stacked in the corner. Killian walked to the bed, running his finger across the frame on her nightstand.

"Pretty family," he commented. She just nodded, not wanting to talk about her family with her posh one night stand. Killian seemed to pick up on her reluctance to talk, turning abruptly and sauntering back towards her.

Hooking his thumbs in the loops on his jeans, he licked his lips and smirked. "Look here. You, me, a mattress."

Emma laughed, but it was too sharp to sound natural and her face flushed. "Yep. All the essentials."

He dipped his head, hands raising to rest on her hips. "Precisely."

Tightening his hold on her, Killian leaned to close the gap between them. Emma jumped out of his arms.

"Sheets!" She exclaimed, stepping back until there were a good few feet between them.

He blinked at her, his mouth still open in what she assumed to be a pre-kiss expression.

"You don't, um, mind if we put some sheets on the bed?" She tore open the box closest to her and started throwing jeans and jumpers out until she found the light blue sheets Ingrid had helped her pick out.

Killian cleared his throat. "Right, sure, sheets."

She handed him one end and went to the other side of the bed. "It won't take long, they're the elastic kind. You know, what are they called?"

"Fitted, I think." His side snapped off and he quickly lunged to grab it. "Pulled too hard."

"S'okay," she tucked the last bit of her side underneath the mattress and Killian finished his, too.

"Promise not to yank too hard later tonight," he joked, shifting from one foot to the other. "On, you know, your breasts."

Emma's eyes widened and her jaw dropped. He shook his head repeatedly. The silence filled the room and Emma thought that if she hadn't been the one to approach him, she would certainly be on a game show of the most awkward hook ups possible.

"We should," her voice cracked and she cleared her voice. "We should get on with it?"

The phrase came out more like a question than a statement but Killian seemed to perk up, grinning at her again. She met him halfway, slipping her arms around his neck while his wrapped around her waist. His expression was darker, though his embarrassment had left two bright patches of pink on either of his cheeks. It contrasted nicely with the tufts of dark hair that curled around his ears and the red of his lips.

He opened his mouth, like he was about to speak, so Emma surged up until her lips captured his, unwilling to let his stupid words ruin what was very quickly turning into a nice moment.

And once he got over his initial surprise at her sudden attack, it _really_ was a nice moment. He kissed her like maybe all those obnoxious comments were born from experience rather than bravado. Emma slid her fingers into his hair, tugging on it and when he groaned at the sensation, lips spreading to let the sound out of his throat, she pressed herself tighter against him to deepen the kiss.

Whatever stupor he might have been in was broken the second their tongues met. Killian tightened his grip, lifting her into the air and spinning, walking towards the freshly sheet-clad bed.

Emma wrapped her legs around him, her head falling back when her hips rotated against his. He ignored her gasp in favor of attaching his lips to her neck, sucking at the skin hard enough that she slapped against his hand to stop him.

"You'll leave a mark," she said. He dropped her on the bed, quite unceremoniously, and she bounced a little before he joined her.

"Sorry," he replied, making quick work to rid himself of his jacket and sweater. The moment it hit the floor, Emma tugged him down to her, kissing him.

She dropped her hands to his jeans, flicking the button open with enough ease that he raised an eyebrow and she blushed. Rolling her eyes, she tore her top off and threw it out of the way. His expression immediately slacked before sharpening, his tongue peeking out from between his lips again, though for the first time Emma didn't think it was a calculated move.

The rest of their clothes practically melted off, considering how quickly they shed them. His mouth worked down her neck, a hot trail that dipped beneath her collarbone until she was squirming and rolling her hips up into him.

"Condom," she gasped out and he nodded, bits of his hair falling forward onto his face, curling up on his sweaty forehead. He lunged for his jeans, the blanket twisting around his legs as he dug around in the pockets.

"Aha!" He pushed himself back onto the mattress, sitting up on his knees. He ripped the wrapper with his teeth, throwing the foil behind his shoulder. Emma watched as it landed on the edge of her bed and made a mental note to throw it away properly later.

They both moaned loudly when he slipped inside her, her thighs falling apart to let him move closer to her. His body shivered, teeth coming down to sink into his bottom lip as he stilled. She rotated beneath him, adjusting, before wrapping one leg around his waist and spreading her fingers across the hard plains on his back, urging him to move.

Each thrust of his hips were met with the lifting of hers, movements that were timed so perfectly that Emma could feel any sort of hesitation from inviting him home burn away. He attached his lips to the curve of her breast, tongue flattening and swirling around her chest as one hand gripped at his bicep while the other shot to his head, her fingers threaded between his locks to hold him tight against her.

And then, quite without warning, the front door slammed shut and they both stilled at the loud, heavy footsteps from downstairs.

Killian raised his head, a questioning gaze beneath thick eyelashes. She wanted to murder whoever had come home and disrupted the easy feeling between them.

There was quite for a moment and Killian tentatively began to thrust again. Emma wrapped her other leg around his waist and rolled her hips. He let out a quiet, guttural _bloody hell_ and then the TV flickered on and the unmistakable sound of the Batman theme song began to play loudly throughout the house.

"Goddamn fucking surround sound," she threw her head back in frustration, the movement making her headboard hit against the potentially-made-of-cardboard wall.

There was nothing for a moment, just ragged breathing and the _god forsaken Batman theme song_ filling the room. Killian shifted a little and while it felt good, the music had stopped and "Previously In Gotham City" rang out loud enough that she groaned in frustration.

"Maybe you could try talking?" Killian asked, shifting so he was leaning on his forearm. He wrapped a few strands of her hair around his fingers, smiling down at her.

He pushed forwards a few times, softly, and Emma struggled to think of something sexy to say. She was never a big talker in bed and the few times she tried, it was always in the heat of the moment. Panic flared when he stilled his movements again and the TV downstairs seemed to be getting louder.

"Hump me with your mega cock?" She said, regret immediately pooling in her chest as soon as the words left her mouth.

Killian stared at her, his mouth parted in a soft 'o' shape, before he shrugged. Emma waited, her face paused mid wince to see if he laughed at her, but instead his mouth curved into a smile and he began his movements, this time with more purpose.

Though he had taken her terrible dirty talk in stride, he didn't ask her to try again. Instead, he began to speak himself, phrases and curses tumbling from his lips, punctuating the whimpers and moans she couldn't keep from spilling from her mouth.

Killian rotated his hips, pushing into her at a faster and faster rate until she was more nerve endings than thoughts.

He dropped his hand to the front of her, fingers splaying as he ran them down her chest and gripped at her waist before dipping lower, slipping his thumb to where their bodies were met to rub over her.

She gasped, back arching, and the movement forced him a little deeper. His head dropped to her shoulder, teeth biting into the juncture next to her neck, and she fell apart around him, only barely managing to stifle the sounds with her hand clasped over her mouth. He followed shortly after, thrusting into her slower and slower as he groaned, loud and low, into her skin.

She nudged him and he complied, rolling off her until they lay shoulder to shoulder. The sounds of the Batman TV show started to bleed back into her consciousness and when she noticed Killian sneaking a glance at her while taking off the spent condom, she glared at him.

"Use the actual trashcan this time, you barbarian."

"Barbarian?" He scoffed, affronted. She opened her mouth to retaliate but he rolled his eyes, sitting up. Emma dodged out of his hand's way to make sure he didn't hit her with the latex. "Whatever. Where's the bin?"

She pointed to the side of her desk and he stood, picked up the foil wrapper he'd thrown earlier, and deposited both into the trashcan. Emma pulled the blankets tighter around her, satisfied, and Killian rolled his eyes again before climbing back into bed.

"Mind if I stay?" He asked, but he'd already rolled on his side and yanked more than his share of the blanket from her.

Emma would have complained, but it felt rude and she couldn't pretend like his warmth wasn't nice in the drafty, new room.

"Fine," she muttered, tugging at the blankets. His arms tightened and she tugged harder. "Share the blanket, you knob!"

Killian released it. "Fine," he parroted.

Emma snuggled into the material, pretending like she wasn't also a bit closer to his back. "Fine."

He reached out and flickered off her nightside lamp. She could feel the vibrations of his heartbeat and hear the steadiness of his breathing. It wasn't an entirely unwelcome sensation.

When he spoke, it was softer than usual and she found the posh accent wasn't quite as off putting as it was when he was louder. "Goodnight, Emma."

"Goodnight, Killian." And even with Henry marathoning the Batman TV show on surround sound and it being her first night in a new house, Emma was asleep in moments.

~~~*~~~

Emma had thought about her first day of university many times throughout her childhood. Especially after Ingrid adopted her and Emma actually started _trying_ at school, the possibility of higher education became less of a maybe and more of a someday to her. She imagined the class she'd take, the people she'd meet, hell, even the breakfast she'd have before.

But despite thinking about that day for years, Emma never imagined it would start with a naked _posh_ _idiot_ sneaking out of her bed.

"Good morning, love," he said, much too cheerful for the pounding that was beneath her eyes.

"Ugh," she groaned, clenching her eyes closed. She stretched, curling her toes and reaching behind her to the headboard to crack the bones in her body. He made a disgusted sound and Emma tried harder to get the bones she'd missed.

"No need to run me out," Killian said. Emma flickered open her eyes and noticed he'd put on his boxers and jeans. She handed him his shirt, which had somehow been draped over the knob of her closet door. "If you'd be so kind as to give me directions out of this place, I'll happily get out of your hair."

Emma wrapped the blanket around her like a towel, sitting up on her knees to grab her phone. She'd google map him a route to Mars if it'd get him out of here before the others saw.

"What's the address?" She asked, already typing hers in as the starting location.

"28 Storybrooke Road," he grunted her address from beneath his sweater. Emma watched him with disdain as he struggled to get dressed.

"No," she sighed, raising her forefinger and thumb to rub at her temples. A headache she wasn't sure she could blame on alcohol was starting to form. "What address are you going to?"

He plopped on the bed, finally dressed, to start tying his boots. Emma huffed at him, placing a tight grip on the blanket so nothing uncovered.

"28 Storybrooke Road," he repeated.

Emma glared at him. "No, you dipshit, 28 Storybrooke is where you're at."

Killian returned her glare with equal vigour and Emma studiously pretended like the shadow growing around his jaw didn't add a nice shot of hotness to his Pretty Boy status. Maintaining eye contact to glare at her, he stood up and grabbed his phone. He tapped at it, only tearing his gaze from her when he was done.

He scoffed, thrusting his phone in her line of sight. "See? 28 Storybrooke Road. It's my new house because I didn't get into halls and-"

Emma's glare softened into something much more horrified. His twisted into a smirk.

"Well, well, well," he drawled, crossing his arms and running his tongue over his bottom lip suggestively. "Looks like we're roomies."

"Fucking goddamn _shit_ ," Emma threw herself backwards onto the bed. His chuckle erupted until it was boisterous laughter and Emma shot up, throwing her hand over his mouth.

"Shut the fuck up," she hissed. She could feel his grin underneath her palm and his eyes, stupidly blue even in the dim bar, seemed to glow with amusement now. "Don't fucking laugh, you bastard."

"I wouldn't dare," he grinned, throwing his arms up in mock surrender. Emma dropped away from his mouth to bury her head in her hands. She groaned and he started laughing again when the sound continued.

"Don't say a thing," she warned him.

"What?" Killian raised his eyebrows. "This is a great thing. A little roommates with benefits situation, hm?"

Emma shot up, hands on her hips to level him with her harshest look. "No _fucking_ way."

He laughed again. "Alright, sure-"

"I'm serious. This," she waved a hand between them, "this was a one time thing."

Killian stopped laughing, though a smile was still tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Of course," he agreed.

"Don't mention it to anyone, either." She added, quickly. He raised an eyebrow and she jutted her chin out. He sighed and nodded.

"Alright," he said. "Now, I need to go get ready. Can I go get my stuff?"

"No!" She could already hear the others moving and if they saw him come out of her bedroom, they'd never get away with this. "Well, yeah. But be _quiet_."

He raised a finger to his lips. "Like a fox."

"I'm going to go downstairs. Hand me those pajamas." She dressed underneath the covers and grabbed her robe, throwing it on with a bit too much aggression. "Be fucking quiet and come back in the house like you've never been here!"

Killian's lips twitched and he saluted. "Aye, aye, Captain."

Emma pushed past him, closing the door quietly behind her and shaking her head all the way down the stairs. What the hell did she get herself into?

~~~*~~~

Burnt toast and jam was not a good enough breakfast to stop Emma panicking. She was trying to keep a straight face, not wanting to clue either of the others eating with her that she was in the midst of freaking out. She'd never had a one-night stand before, and as eager as she was to pretend it had never happened, any moment now, Killian was going to walk in the front door and they were going to have to _live_ together.

It definitely didn't help that as soon as she saw Jefferson and Lacey at the dining table, she'd realised that her night of stupidity wouldn't be a secret. They'd know. _Everyone_ would know.

There was no way they wouldn't. Jefferson and Lacey had admired him almost as long as she had, although she supposed they hadn't managed to see him naked.

Would it be asking too much to hope that they'd forgotten all about him after their own nights of debauchery?

It was only when she heard Jefferson let out a loud cheer that Emma stopped angsting, looking up from her meal to see Neal trudging into the room. He looked completely exhausted, dark circles under his eyes and his hair askew.

"Are you _just_ getting in?" she asked. She hoped he was because she hadn't even considered that he might have been in the room next to hers, just one thin wall away from her and Killian as they had sex. "You look terrible."

"I feel terrible," Neal grumbled, wandering past the entire group to start making a mug of instant coffee. "I'm knackered."

"You say knackered. I say _congratulations_ ," Jefferson said dramatically, standing from the table and sidling over to Neal. Once there, he plucked his cigarette out of his own mouth and exhaled a puff of smoke into Neal's face, smirking when Neal coughed and glared at him. "There. That woke you up. Now, I just want to say how proud I am that two of the team managed to get laid last night."

" _Two_?" Emma repeated, ignoring Neal's offended scowl. It wasn't that she doubted Neal could have gotten laid, but she had been so certain that she wasn't the only one who didn't return home alone. "Didn't you and Lacey-?"

"We decided it was probably best not to get fucked on the first night," Jefferson explained nonchalantly. "And by fucked, I mean smashed off our faces, not… well, Emma, I know that _you_ know what I mean. At least the two of you had a great night."

"Yeah, well, as great as it would have been, it stopped being fun once the snogging stopped and she started reading me the Bible," Neal mumbled, hiding his expression behind his drink. "That thing just does not end."

Jefferson guffawed, shook his head in disbelief, and then turned to Emma. "I guess that makes you the champion."

He raised his hand for a high five. Emma just stared at it.

"No," she stated. "Sorry. I guess we're a champion-free house."

"What?"

"We got halfway home and I looked at him and I was just like 'What am I doing?'," Emma lied. "Even for a starter lay, I've got standards."

"But I heard sex noises," Jefferson protested. Emma squared her shoulders and met his gaze, desperate to convince him that nothing had happened. It seemed to work, his jaw dropping in disbelief. "I _saw_ that man. What standards are you setting?"

Emma rolled her eyes, stiffening when the buzz of the doorbell rang through the room. This was it. One day at university and she'd already managed to ruin everything, and in only a few seconds, she'd know just how much she'd managed to fuck things up.

The shit-eating grin on Jefferson's face as he led Killian into the main room was a bad sign. She couldn't look at either of them, and as everyone else in the room offered him polite waves or nods, she decided to start looking in the fridge for something.

"Killian's the name," she heard him say boisterously, and she glanced quickly over her shoulder to see that he was shaking hands with Henry. "Learning, drinking and shagging's the game."

It was lucky the fridge was cool, because Emma's face was already burning.

"Well, fuck me." This was it. Emma braced herself, ready to turn around and face up to the truth, but Killian kept talking and she realised he wasn't speaking to her at all. "It's the Pussyman! 'All women love Astrophysics' Pussyman."

"When the sun's up, I go by Neal and, uh, I actually changed from Astrophysics." Neal replied awkwardly. "They were full. So, Geology. It's going to be all rocks."

"Right."

She couldn't do this. She couldn't wait around to see what Killian was going to do. She had to take control.

With that in mind, she slammed the fridge door shut, satisfied by the way Killian jumped at the sound, and then, once he turned to face her, she immediately offered him her hand. "I'm Emma."

He narrowed his eyes and gave her hand a quick, sharp shake. "Um, hi, Emma," He stammered, suddenly lacking all of the prickishness he'd had the night before. "I'm Killian. Nice to, er, meet you."

And then he leant towards her and tried to kiss her cheek.

Emma hurriedly stepped backwards, his lips missing her by a few inches, and although he hadn't made contact, she still rubbed her cheek furiously as though he had. "Nice to meet you, Killian," she echoed. "I'm Emma."

"You already said that," Jefferson interrupted, his grin impossibly wide. "Now, is this exchange going to go on all day, because I have my English Lit Introductory lecture but I'll skip it if this is still happening?"

"No, we're… well, I'm going to put my items up in my room," Killian announced, stumbling over his words.

The moment he left, Emma sighed, letting her head fall forward so that it banged against the wall. It ached, but she probably needed some sense knocked into her. Maybe she should have done it a day earlier.

"It's him from the pub!" Jefferson whispered gleefully, his eyes alight with amusement. "The Pretty Boy!"

"Yeah, it's him," Emma mumbled. "But I don't think we need to say anything. I mean, nothing happened."

She wasn't sure Jefferson believed her.

Unfortunately, her reprieve from Killian only lasted a few more seconds. He came striding back into the room, bagless, and looking just as self-assured as he had the night before, except it wasn't as appealing when she hadn't had a few drinks.

"Right. I've just had a look at my so-called room and I thought I'd call a house meeting." He declared, clapping his hands together, and Emma exchanged an incredulous look with Neal. "My room. It's terrible. It's small. It's _ridiculously_ small. Is it a joke room? Because if it's not, can I have another one?"

"No, you can't have another one. If you wanted a bigger room, maybe you shouldn't have left until today to get here," Emma told him sharply. "Unless you want the basement. I'm sure Henry wouldn't mind trading up."

"Why would I want the basement?" Killian asked. "I've looked at all the rooms in this house, except the locked one on the top floor. They're all nicer than mine. Except the basement. Which is horrible."

"I wouldn't be trading it anyway," Henry pointed out. "I've got it set up the way I like it and I'm not doing that again."

"The nicest room in the house is the other one at the top, which I believe is yours," Killian continued, pointing at Jefferson. "If I were to give you money, can I have it?"

Jefferson stared at him pensively, taking a long drag from his cigarette, and then he shrugged. "How much?"

"Twenty quid a week under the table," Killian decided, offering his hand to Jefferson. "We swap rooms."

There wasn't even a moment's hesitation. As soon as Killian stopped speaking, Jefferson took his hand and gave it an enthusiastic shake before offering Killian his lit cigarette, a gesture that Emma figured probably meant they were now best friends or something equally as ridiculous.

Killian took a quick puff and then handed it back to Jefferson, ignoring Neal's loud protests. "Look, mate, the deal's done," he told Neal. "There's nothing you can do about it now."

Emma couldn't accept that. If she had to _live_ with him, she wasn't going to to let him swoop in and start demanding everything he wanted like some spoilt rich kid. "Look _mate_ ," she spat, striding up to him and poking his chest. "You can't just muscle in here and start throwing your weight around."

"Relax, alright?" Killian replied easily, a mischievous smirk spreading across his lips. "It's not like I'm trying to hump anyone with my mega-cock, is it?"

Emma froze. It was bad enough that she'd even said that, no matter how much the sex had improved afterwards, but it was somehow even more embarrassing now that Killian had said it in front of everyone, his raised eyebrow and taunting smirk crueller than she'd expected.

She pressed her lips together, refusing to respond to his provocation, but he must have seen something because his gaze softened into something apologetic. "Look, we made a deal," he said calmly. "He's happy. I'm happy."

"Yeah, well, I'm not," Neal protested, and Emma breathed a sigh of relief when Killian finally moved his attention away from her. "You can't just come in here and flash some cash and end up getting your way. You came last, you get what's left."

"Or, here's another option," Killian offered. "How about I also agree to pay for Sky Plus HD for the entire house and I get priority boarding for the top floor bathroom? Sports and movies."

Emma looked expectantly at Neal, but after giving her a sheepish smile, he just shrugged. "Well, would you look at that?" he wondered. "All my objections are gone."

Killian winked at her, and after a loud, angry huff, Emma stomped away.

~~~*~~~

The first thing Emma saw when she entered her room was her bed. The sheets were rumpled, only one corner still tucked under the mattress, the other three curled up and revealing the edges of the mattress. Her blanket lay half on the floor, the duvet only filling one side of the cover after the way Killian had kicked at it throughout the night.

"Shit," Emma muttered, slamming the door shut behind her and hurrying over to start stripping the bed of any evidence that it had been used for anything other than sleeping the night before.

"Hey, Emma?"

She paused at the sound of Neal's voice, sheet bundled in her arms. "What?"

"Nothing," Neal answered. It sounded like he was in the room with her, even though she knew he was on the other side of the wall. "You just left in a bit of hurry. Are you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," she responded quickly. She didn't have a laundry basket, so she loudly dumped the contents of one of her cardboard boxes onto the bed and then stuffed the dirty sheets and blanket into it. "It's just that… ugh, Killian is such a dick."

"Definitely," Neal agreed and Emma punctuated his chuckle by kicking the small metal bin next to her desk. She needed to get rid of the condom, and once that was gone and the sheets were washed, she might actually be able to pretend she'd never had a first-night fuck. "I bet you're glad nothing happened."

"God, yes," Emma fibbed. "How much would I have regretted _that_?"

Neal chuckled. Emma wanted to be sick. How could she have screwed things up so badly in less than twenty-four hours? What would she do if people back home found out?

At least it had been good.

"Look, Neal, do you think we should do something?" she asked carefully, just as she tied a knot in the top of the plastic bag she had used as a makeshift bin bag. "About Killian?"

"Do something?" he repeated. "Like what? Kill him and stuff him with his own pâté?"

"No, I mean, do you want to live with someone like that?"

"Um, no, I don't," Neal stated, as though the answer was obvious. "But what can we do?"

"We tell him," Emma decided. "Isn't it better for him to know now instead after he's settled in and thinks he owns the place? We could just tell him that, I don't know, 'This isn't right for us. Maybe it isn't right for you. Sling your hook, mate.' Something like that."

"Just ask him to leave? I don't know," Emma wished there wasn't as much hesitation in his voice. She needed him on her side, because there was no way she could be the one to ask Killian to leave. Not without looking petty and immature. "I talk a good game but I very rarely tell people what I think of them to their faces."

He didn't say anything more, and when the silence continued, Emma stashed the box of laundry by the door, the plastic bag holding the one used condom and started to sort through the few things she'd brought with her. Clothes and jackets went in the small wardrobe, her laptop placed neatly in the centre of the desk.

She was halfway through re-making the bed, having found a spare set of linens in her other box, when Neal spoke again.

"So what reason are we going to give him?"

Emma grinned. "I don't know. Maybe that we're not his sort of people," she suggested. "We're not going to going sailing or playing croquet or drinking tea with our pinkies sticking out so he's probably going to get bored."

"Can't you talk to him?"

"No!" Emma protested shrilly. "I have a Law Orientation thing to get to so I don't really have the time."

It wasn't _actually_ a lie, but she'd only remembered it when she was searching for an excuse. She really did have something she was meant to be attending, and if fucking Killian wasn't a good enough reason to want him gone, the fact that he was causing enough drama for her to forget her own timetable definitely was.

"Okay," Neal mumbled. "If I'm actually going to do this, then I'm going to need something to eat after."

"I'm pretty sure I saw something about free pizza at the Freshers Fair," Emma remembered. "We could meet there after you've talked to Killian? If you want?"

"Yeah," Neal agreed eagerly. "Yeah, that'd be nice."

With them both determined to send Killian packing, they didn't want to wait. Emma accompanied Neal back downstairs, but when Henry told them Killian had nipped outside for a smoke, Emma stayed inside.

She could see the backyard through the kitchen window, and she opened one of the top panes just an inch so that she could hear the start of the conversation. All she could see of Killian were a few tufts of dark hair peeking out from below the window, where he must have been leaning against the wall, and a thin trail of smoke from the cigarette.

Neal hesitated the second he stepped outside, shooting Emma a panicked glance through the window. Emma scowled at him. He took in a big breath and then lumbered down the few stairs towards Killian.

"Hey, dude," he greeted, raising his hand in a stiff wave.

"Hey," Killian replied cheerfully. "It's the Pussyman."

"Neal," he corrected. "Mind if I hang out with you for a bit?"

"No problem."

As soon as Neal leant against the wall, Emma couldn't see him. He wasn't as tall as Killian, and Killian's hair was barely high enough to be visible through the window.

"Look, there was something I wanted to-"

"So, what do you think of Emma?" Killian interrupted. Even though Emma was pretty sure that neither of them could see her, she still hurried away from the window, staying close enough to hear whatever Neal said in response. "Fit, right?"

"Er, yeah," Neal agreed quickly. "Killian, I need to talk to you about you living here. As it turns out, there are a few complications."

"What?"

"Well, um, the house is actually already full," Neal started and Emma preemptively winced. She'd mentioned telling Killian that he just didn't fit in, but Neal seemed to have jumped straight to lying. "It turns out that I have an identical twin brother and he's actually living here too. The uni just… got confused and thought we were the same person. So, your room? It wasn't actually free."

"It looked free," Killian pointed out. "No one else remembered when I chose my room?"

"It looked empty," Neal stammered. "We share a suitcase and he just hasn't unpacked yet."

"What's his name?"

"Neal," he answered. Emma grimaced, thumping her head against the kitchen counter in disbelief and disappointment. Killian was _never_ going to leave after Neal's disaster of an excuse. "Yeah, we have… we have the same name. That's why there's so much confusion."

"Are you trying to _dump_ me?" Killian asked, and although Emma couldn't see his face, she was sure he looked incredulous. "Are you trying to kick me out?"

"No," Neal objected. "No. Just wouldn't you be happier in a…. Look. We're very Hufflepuff here. Wouldn't you be happier in Slytherin?"

Emma couldn't believe what she was hearing, but at least Neal seemed to have started trying her approach instead of talking nonsense.

"I'm not a fucking witch, Neal."

She couldn't listen anymore. She had somewhere else she needed to be, and given the choice, Emma wanted to be as far away from Killian as possible once he found out that they wanted him gone.

All Emma wanted was to come home that afternoon and not worry about Killian Jones.


	2. S01E02

** Episode 2 **

The Fresher's Fair turned out not to be as much of a waste of time as Emma had been expecting. She'd eaten enough crap that she was certain she wouldn't need to cook herself dinner and signed up for several societies, although she couldn't remember the names of many of them. Sailing was definitely one of them, although that was mainly because they wouldn't let her have a slice of pizza until she added her name to the mailing list.

But as productive as her visit to the Fresher's Fair had been, she'd spent the whole time looking for Neal. Eventually, she'd given up waiting, and after grabbing a Krispy Kreme doughnut from what looked like the amateur magic society, she'd returned home and gone straight to her room.

She'd noisily sorted out the rest of her belongings and when she finally heard Neal tap on their shared wall, she ignored it.

The next morning, it became very clear why Neal hadn't met her at the Fresher's Fair.

"Shit," Emma muttered the moment she stepped into the kitchen. Killian Jones was standing by the stove, dressed in a monogrammed robe that looked like it was tied so loosely his whole chest was on display. "You have got to be kidding me."

For a minute, she considered turning on her heels and running back to her room, but he noticed her before she could. He turned towards her, somehow managing to pose so that the dramatic dip of his neckline looked even more ridiculous, and grinned.

"Morning, Emma," he said cheerily. "I thought I'd apologise for my presence with breakfast. Scrambled eggs?"

He gestured at the frying pan with the wooden spoon in his hand. Emma scowled at him. "For your presence?"

"I'm aware that I'm unwelcome," he told her. "You made that very clear yesterday morning."

"You're not…" Emma trailed off before she could finish the lie. "Can we just _not_ talk about yesterday? Or the night before that."

He served up two plates of eggs, dropping the eggs from so high above the plates that they splashed on to them, several splatters leaping off the plates onto the counter. After he placed them noisily on the table, he nodded his head towards one of the dishes.

Emma was certain it was a bad idea, but she reluctantly crossed the room.

"Emma?" he asked suddenly, just as she was about to sit down. "What's so wrong with me?"

She gaped at him, glancing over his earnest expression, his gaping neckline, and the breakfast he'd made her. "Nothing."

Killian jerked his head in a quick nod. "Look, these things are bound to happen. It's not like it's going to happen again," he assured her. Emma swallowed back her response that it definitely wouldn't. He really did seem to be trying to make things less uncomfortable, and as much as she regretted what they'd done, none of that regret was to do with him. "Unless you want it to. In which case, my door's always open. Except if there's another girl in there. If I'm getting busy, I'd rather not have to deal with interruptions."

Well, maybe _some_ of the regret was to do with him.

Emma huffed angrily, snatched up the plate, and stormed out of the room. She kicked open the door to her bedroom when she got upstairs, her hands full with breakfast and cutlery, but before she could step inside, the door to Neal's room opened and he collided with her.

"Shit, sorry," Neal said hurriedly, glancing over Emma to see if he'd managed to avoid spilling scrambled eggs all over her. "I didn't get that all over you, did I?"

"No," Emma snapped. "No, you didn't. Just like how you _didn't_ meet me yesterday,"

"I was going to," Neal insisted. "I just… didn't feel like it."

"Really?" Emma asked angrily. "Because I thought that maybe it was because you didn't want to tell me that Killian was still here."

"I couldn't do it."

"Yeah, I guessed that when I ran into him playing Jamie Oliver downstairs," she muttered, rolling her eyes. "That was just what I wanted to see first thing in the morning."

"He's naked?"

"He's _cooking_."

"Right, yeah, I'd figured out that much," Neal mumbled. "And I don't see what the big deal is. From what I've heard, this isn't the first morning where he's been the first one you've seen."

"What?" Emma breathed. "What do you mean?"

"Come on, Emma."

Emma frowned at him, surprised by the anger on his face. "I thought you wanted him out of here too. What's the big deal?"

"I thought he was a bit of a dick," Neal told her. "I didn't realise you only want him gone because you fucked him."

She should have known Killian wouldn't keep his mouth shut, although she had to admit she had hoped he would manage to stay silent for more than a day. Not that she understood why Neal looked so upset about it. He wasn't the one who'd already managed to mess up everything.

"What?" she hissed. "Do you want to say that again, maybe _without_ the judgement?"

"I hear it was a lot of fun," Neal continued. "Well worth another go, according to Killian. God, Emma, did you even think how awkward that conversation was going to be? I told him to leave. To move out. I thought he was annoying, sure, but I wouldn't have tried to send him away if it wasn't what you wanted. I don't know, I thought he might have done something, but no, you just shagged him."

"So?"

"If I hadn't agreed to kick him out, would you have done it?" Neal asked. "I bet you wouldn't. You made damn sure you didn't have to be involved. Did you even _have_ a law thing? Or were you just running away? So, yeah, maybe I changed my mind, but I didn't feel comfortable kicking someone out just because you were a slut."

Emma's breath caught, fury rising through her. "Look, I didn't know him at all at the time. I'd hardly spoken to him. Do you think if I'd known what a dick he is I would have ever slept with him?" she snarled. "And no, I don't make a habit of sleeping with men that I've barely spoken to but if I _do_ now and then, or even occasionally, it has nothing to do with you, so you can basically just fuck off."

She slammed the door in his face.

~~~*~~~

"I can't believe there wasn't an afternoon tea society," Killian exclaimed, for what Neal was sure was the millionth time that afternoon. "It's a fucking disgrace. Where are we supposed to eat mini cakes and finger sandwiches if there's nowhere to have afternoon tea?"

Killian had bounded upstairs only minutes after Emma had yelled at Neal. Neal had been completely certain that his stupid identical twin story would be the nail in the coffin for whatever potential there was for him and Killian to be friends, especially when it was followed by several requests for him to pack his stuff back up and leave.

Instead of any awkward silences, Killian had invited both him and Jefferson to the second day of the Fresher's Fair so that they could 'bond'.

The three of them had wandered around the different stalls together. At least, they had until Jefferson started flirting with a girl he met manning the theatre society stall. After that, he hadn't seemed interested in checking out the rest of the groups with them.

Neal hadn't bothered to sign up for anything, but he'd followed Killian around as he put his name down for sailing, fencing, rowing, all the societies that Neal expected him to care about.

He didn't know if it was on purpose or not, but Killian took a very long time to do anything.

It was mid-afternoon when Jefferson found them again, although that had only been to tell them that he and Tamara were moving the flirting to a pub down the road. Soon after that, Killian and Neal had ordered a couple of pints, found a table near the bar, and then Killian had started going on about afternoon tea.

Neal had been listening to him for what felt like hours and he was still not shutting up about the fucking finger sandwiches.

"Can we talk about something else?" Neal eventually asked, when he'd finished his third pint. "Yeah, it's shit that you can't easily eat some really small sandwiches, but come on."

Killian stared at him for a second and then shrugged. "Sure. Want another pint?"

Neal nodded. He watched Killian shove his way through the crowd at the bar, pushing his way to the front, and Neal rolled his eyes when he saw him clicking to get the bartender's attention. His methods worked, because he was soon back with more drinks.

"So," Killian started, as he sat back down. "You want to talk about something else? How about Emma?"

"Emma?" Neal repeated. "You want to talk about her?"

"I heard you two this morning," he admitted. "I thought you were cruel."

Neal gaped at him. Maybe that was why Killian had kept them out of the house all day, with his incessant questions to the students manning the stalls, although Neal didn't understand why Killian might be so eager to make things easier for Emma when she'd been such a bitch to him.

"Is that why you wanted a boys day out?" Neal asked. "To keep me away from Emma?"

"No," Killian told him. "I just think that our living situation might work best if we spend most of our time apart."

Neal couldn't argue with that. Things hadn't exactly been smooth-sailing since they all arrived, but Neal was more than used to uncomfortable living situations and he was very, very good at avoiding people. If not for Killian, he'd have just stayed in his room.

"So things with Emma… it was good?" Neal asked hesitantly, finishing his question with a large gulp of his beer. "I know you said that you'd do it again if she wanted that, but-"

"Yeah." Killian answered. "Yeah, it was good. Great. The Batman theme was unexpected, but overall I felt it actually added something to what we were doing."

"The Batman theme?"

"It's not good form to go into detail," Killian announced. "All you need to know is that she's fucking gorgeous."

That didn't surprise Neal. He had _seen_ Emma, after all. He considered pressing for a few more details, but Killian's expression suddenly lit up, grinning widely at something behind Neal. Neal twisted around, grimacing at the sight of two men dressed in bright chinos and pastel shirts. One of them even had his jumper tied around his shoulders.

"Oh, god, there's more of them," he muttered disbelievingly.

"Fuck me," Killian stated excitedly, lifting his hand to wave enthusiastically at the two men. "Dave, Rob! It's me. What are you two doing here?"

The one with the jumper nudged the other's side and they quickly bustled over, their tumblers joining Neal and Killian's pints on the table.

"Never mind us, Killian, what are you doing here? I didn't think I'd see you again," the one in the jumper said, his voice loud and boisterous. He noticed Neal then and grinned at him, holding out his hand in greeting. "I'm David. This is Robin."

"Neal," he replied shortly, taking David's hand for a strong, brief handshake. "Nice to meet you."

"I go here," Killian answered, as though Neal hadn't even spoken. "I thought you'd gotten into Oxford?"

"No, that was James," David told him. Killian's grin faded into a sheepish smile. "What about you? I thought you'd be following in _your_ brother's footsteps and going somewhere like Cambridge or Durham?"

"I thought I'd rather spend my years at uni drinking and shagging instead of working," Killian replied. Neal didn't know Killian well, but even to him, the answer sounded forced. "Are you in halls? I was lucky enough to get placed in what I call 'Party Central'."

Neal stifled a laugh. As soon as his schoolmates had joined them, Killian had puffed out his chest and straightened up, his fingers tapping anxiously against his beer glass.

"We're in halls," Robin answered. "I'm sure we'd both love to see this 'Party Central' though."

"Well, you can," Killian said hurriedly. "We're actually having a party this weekend and the two of you are definitely invited. It should be pretty fun. Lots of women. I mean, you should see the ones we have living with us, never mind the ones we've invited to the bash. I've actually already nailed one of them."

So much for not providing details. Neal raised his eyebrows in disbelief at the way Killian was suddenly stumbling over his words, his free hand rubbing the back of his neck. David and Robin exchanged a glance, and it became clear to Neal that this probably wasn't the first time Killian had tried so desperately to impress them.

"Yeah, alright then," David agreed. "Text us the address and the time and we'll be there."

"I'm not even lying," Killian continued, as though he hadn't heard David agree. "I really did shag one of them and… and, well, she is _really_ fit. And I promise she won't be the only lass there. There'll definitely be others."

"We've already said we're going to come," Robin pointed out, and Killian's words faltered. "Should be a good laugh, yeah? The King George lads back together again."

"With women."

"Right," David agreed, downing the last few dregs of his whiskey before he stood up and clapped Killian on the back. "With women."

He nodded at them in farewell, Robin immediately standing and following him as they pushed their way out of the crowded pub. Once they were gone, Neal turned an incredulous stare towards Killian. He was downing the rest of his pint, swallowing the beer down in large gulps.

"What the hell was that?" Neal asked. "Are we actually throwing a party?"

"Of course we are." Killian reached out and took a swig from Neal's beer. "Why wouldn't we?"

"With women? Which women?"

"I don't know," Killian admitted, but then he immediately brightened. "I'll find some. This _face_ will find us some." He used his finger to draw a circle around his face in the air, a lopsided smirk on his lips. "It worked the other day."

"Yeah, on Emma," Neal muttered. "And she's already at the house. As far as we know, she's the only one it works on and only after several drinks. It doesn't really add to the guest list."

"The only one? I'm sorry, have you seen my face?"

Neal rolled his eyes and then tilted his head towards the bar, where Jefferson was standing with the girl from the Fresher's Fair, his hand playing with the ends of her hair as he leant close and whispered flirtations to her. "Maybe you should just rely on Jefferson. He invites her and then we've got one girl on the list."

"Shut up, Neal."

~~~*~~~

The front door slammed open and Emma tightened her grip on her mug, closing her eyes.

Their laughter boomed through the hallway, filling the living room she was curled in, books spread open on the coffee table. She had hoped to get in a little studying before the term really took off, but from the sounds of the boys rumbling into her space, she doubted she'd get much done.

"Evening, love." Jefferson dipped in a broad curtsy, tipping an imaginary hat at her. He threw his jacket on the desk pushed in the corner, plopping onto the couch next to her. Hot tea sloshed from her mug onto her lap and she glared at him.

"Hey," she said shortly. Killian smiled and threw himself into the armchair. Neal ducked behind the counter in the kitchen and pulled out the makings of a sandwich.

"So," Jefferson turned to her, crossing his legs on the couch. Emma lifted an eyebrow and he opened his mouth before freezing, his eyes narrowing on the highlighter in her right hand.

Slowly, he took in the books on the table and said, "What the shitting fuck are you doing?"

Emma laughed at his aghast expression. "I was _trying_ to study before you pinheads came in. What are you doing?"

Jefferson grabbed the open notebook between them on the couch and threw it across the room; Killian ducked so it clattered against the wall instead of his face. "I'm not studying on the _first day of classes_ , you freak!"

Emma exchanged a glance with Killian, who looked just as amused as she did. She shrugged, glancing back at the TV. The contestant she was rooting for got voted off. Stupid cooking shows.

"I'm going up to my room. Maybe Lacey will be doing something cool because you so, so obviously are not." Jefferson stood up, flipped her off with both hands, and then stormed up the stairs.

"He's something," Neal muttered around a mouthful of sandwich. He twisted his neck to look at the TV, rolled his eyes at what he saw, and then saluted them. "Night."

Emma watched him follow Jefferson up the stairs, frowning. As awful as he'd been earlier, she almost wished he'd stayed- then, at least, she wouldn't be alone with fucking Killian.

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, and tried to remind herself that it wasn't _his_ fault she regretted sleeping with him.

"Getting prepared," Killian gestured towards the table when she lolled her head to look at him. "Nice."

Emma rolled her eyes at the way he drawled out the word and he grinned at her, cutting his glance back to the screen. He scoffed. "Do you think the short man actually thinks he might win?"

"Hah!" Emma straightened up and watched as the aforementioned short man fumbled with his serving plates. "You should have seen him in the appetizer round."

They watched the episode until the short man got voted off. Emma cheered and Killian grabbed them celebratory drinks.

"Cheers." He tapped his can against hers.

"So do you think-"

"I wanted to say-"

They both stopped, waiting for the other to continue. Killian tilted his head, nodding at her.

His expression was softer, though, and Emma wasn't sure she wanted to know what he wanted to say.

"Um," she took another swallow of the beer. "Do you think that Goldie's going to win now?"

Killian frowned, cocking his head a little further, before he glanced at the TV. "Probably, hers was the only one that all the judges finished."

"Yeah."

Emma stiffened when he grabbed the remote and turned down the volume.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry." The words came out rushed and when Emma jerked, looking at him, his face was a bright pink.

He shifted, twirling the soda tab between his thumb and forefinger. "For, you know," he continued, "telling Neal about us."

"Oh, I-"

"And Rob and Dave."

Emma froze, narrowing her eyes. " _And_ Rob and Dave?"

Killian nodded, sighing. "I heard some of what Neal said this morning and realised that was probably why you didn't want anyone to know about us."

"Wait a second, who the hell are Rob and Dave?"

"My best mates," he said, "that's not important."

"So you're just going around, telling everyone about how you nailed your housemate?"

"What, no." He shook his head. "Just, like, Neal and Rob and Dave."

"Oh, is that all?" Emma scoffed, downing the last of her beer before slamming the can on the table. "Just them?"

Killian crossed his arms, dropping the tab he was playing with. "I'm _trying_ to apologise-"

"You wouldn't have anything to apologise for if you hadn't fucking told everyone about us when I _asked_ you not to!" She threw the blanket off of her lap and stood up, glaring at him.

"Hey!" His fingers wrapped around her arm and when she spun around, he dropped his hand. "I wouldn't have said anything if _you_ didn't guilt Neal into trying to kick me out of my own house!"

Emma huffed. "Relax, it's not like you actually got kicked out. It was just a suggestion."

"A suggestion that I was too evil to live here," he grumbled.

Emma's lips twitched. "To be fair, that was all Neal."

Killian rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth was pulled up and Emma was fairly certain his anger, like hers, was ebbing away. "You know he tried to pretend he had an identical twin?"

Emma sat back on the couch, laughing. Killian sat next to her and lifted one side of the blanket in offering. Emma nodded and he draped it over both of them.

"He's a terrible liar," Emma agreed.

"The bloody worst," Killian reached over her, ignoring her cries of protest, and grabbed the remote. He turned the volume back up and Emma laughed when the woman they had thought would win dropped a plate full of raw ingredients.

A loud hollering broke their attention from the TV and Emma glanced up in time to see Jefferson sliding down the banister with Lacey following behind.

"Sup, bitches?" Lacey grinned, leaning against the doorframe. "We're going to make some fucking tacos."

"Yeah!" Jefferson cheered, then narrowed his eyes at Emma, jabbing a finger at her. "Fucking tacos. _Not_ fucking books."

Emma shook her head and gave the coffee table a long look. She glanced at Killian. "Fucking tacos?" She offered.

Killian laughed. "Actually, I think I'll bid you all adieu."

Jefferson booed him and Lacey popped behind the fridge door, clattering bottles and dishes as she looked for ingredients. "Join us for Taco Time, Emma!"

Emma shrugged, standing up and stretching her arms above her head while Killian extracted himself from the blankets to go upstairs. He placed a hand on her arm and she turned to him.

"We're okay, yeah?" He asked quietly.

Emma definitely still regretted sleeping with him and she couldn't pretend to be happy with the fact that he told his random best mates about her mistake, but when he wasn't being a complete prick, she actually kind of enjoyed his company.

"We're okay," she confirmed, raising a fist and punching him on the shoulder. She groaned, scrunching her face up. "Don't say anything."

He quirked an eyebrow at her fist, biting his bottom lip and throwing his hands up. "I didn't say anything."

"No, and don't!"

He threw his head back, laughing, and the sound was rather pleasant. "Goodnight." He leaned around her to wave to Jefferson and Lacey. "Night!"

"Goodnight, Pretty Boy!" They called in unison before doubling over in laughter.

"Did you hear that, Emma?" He swayed towards her, grinning. "They're _delightful_."

She blinked at him. "Go to bed, Jones."

" _Pretty Boy_ will," he sang as he left the room.

"That's annoying," Emma muttered, but she couldn't stop the small smile that tugged at her lips from spreading into something wider.

~~~*~~~

The first week flew by, day after agonizing day of introductions and get to know you games Emma would have preferred to have been left in kindergarten. Before she could blink, it was Saturday and Killian was banging on everyone's door to wake them up.

Emma cracked open her door, crossing her arms. It was past one, so she wasn't particularly bothered, but Jefferson threw open his door with a positively _murderous_ expression marring his face.

"What the hell do you want Jones? What the hell?" His hair was sticking up in a thousand different ways and Emma exchanged an amused glance with Lacey, who was standing next to Jefferson looking much less grumpy.

Killian pounded a final time on Neal's door before turning around to all of them, grinning. "It's Party Day."

"You _fucking wanker_ ," Jefferson turned around to storm back into his room but Killian lunged forward, grabbing his arm.

"Jefferson!" Emma had never heard a grown man's voice sound so whiny. "It's _Party_ Day. Dave and Rob will be here. The hotties will be here. We need to prepare."

"The hotties?" Neal asked, raising an eyebrow. "Who exactly did you invite?"

"Why the hell are you waking us up to help you with your party?"

Killian huffed and started walking down the stairs, stopping halfway and looking at them. He rolled his eyes and gestured down the stairs. Emma considered going back into her room, slamming the door, and ignoring whatever nonsense he was talking about, but she was more than a little keen to see if Jefferson ended up slapping him.

She glanced at the others and then shrugged, trailing after him. Henry was sat on the couch with a box of cereal on his lap; he barely looked up from the TV when the four of them came in the room.

"Give me some of that," Emma sat next to Henry, reaching into the box to grab a handful of dry Cheerios.

"What are you watching?" He asked when Emma focused her attention on Jefferson's pacing and Killian's wide smirk.

"Killian's planning a party and Jefferson's _pissed_." Emma chomped loudly, flipping her middle finger up at Jefferson when he whipped his head to her to scowl. "You?"

"Batman, obviously," Henry replied, turning the volume up when Jefferson started in on Killian again.

"He woke me up! At the crack of dawn!"

"It's past one," Neal sat on the other side of Henry, grabbing some of the cereal for himself.

"That's besides the point," Jefferson said. Lacey patted him on the arm before sitting on the armchair, patting the cushion for him to join her. Still looking annoyed, he did.

"No punching, no hitting," Neal shook his head. "Definitely not worth coming all the way down here."

"My thoughts exactly," Emma accepted the box when Henry tilted it to her, stuffing her hoodie pocket with a couple of handfuls before rising from the couch. "Later."

"Emma, wait!" Killian stomped his foot. Everyone seemed to raise a collective eyebrow at his petulance. "The party is going to start soon. We need to _prepare_."

"This isn't my party," she grumbled, but his expression was pinched and Emma figured she'd been a bit of a bitch to him already this week, so she threw herself back on the couch.

"Who are the hotties?" Neal repeated, snaking his arm around Henry to pilfer a few of the Cheerios falling from Emma's pocket. She swatted his hand away.

"I invited everyone from Geology," Killian said, proudly.

Emma exchanged a look with Lacey.

"You absolute monster," Jefferson hit his head against Lacey's shoulder, ignoring her indignant _ow!_ "You absolute _fucking_ monster."

"What?"

Neal sighed. "There's, like, three girls in all of Geology."

Killian hesitated, before shaking his head. "No, no, I sent it to the emails we got. There were a lot of girls." Jefferson kept muttering about Killian being a monster and the confident mask Killian wore slipped. He grabbed his phone out of his pocket and began tapping at it furiously. "Aha!"

Emma tilted her head to see around him, watching the animated show on the television. "Is this your favorite show?"

Henry scoffed. "As if. _Batman Beyond_ is hardly quality television."

Emma nodded. "Good to know."

"See! At least a dozen Sams and twice as many Alexs!" He shoved the phone into Neal's eyeline who blinked, recoiled, and then shrugged.

"Those are guys names, too."

Killian opened his mouth before shutting it tightly again. "Are you telling me," he asked slowly, "that I invited _Dave and Rob_ to a _fucking_ sausage fest?"

Emma laughed, spilling Cheerios from the hoodie when she leaned over. Lacey was barely containing her giggles, as well.

"Don't worry, we'll be there," Lacey offered. "Maybe Ruby will show!"

"Doubt it," Henry muttered, nodding towards the window. "No full moon."

"We _have_ to find ladies." Killian looked between the group. "Come on, you have to help me!"

Emma wasn't exactly sure what things fell under their responsibilities as roommates, but she was pretty sure this wasn't one of them. "No, we really don't."

"Yes, you do!" He looked seconds away from stomping his foot again and Emma grinned, wondering if it would set Jefferson off. She tried to glance at him surreptitiously to see if he was still headbutting Lacey.

"Oh, my god." Killian started pacing again, running a hand through his hair. "Shit, there's so much to do. We've got to clean this place up, get the party food, get the booze. We can't forget the fucking booze, and we've got to do _something_ about Henry and his murder fiction board-"

"Not an accurate description," Henry added, his eyes still glued to the screen.

"And now we've got to invite the hottest ladies in town."

As much as Emma was enjoying watching Killian crumble under the pressure of a fresher's week party, she dumped the rest of the cheerios she had onto Neal's lap and eyed the staircase. If she could sneak out while he was still ranting, she'd probably be able to avoid helping him with any of the cleaning. She could help set up the booze later, maybe, if she _had_ to help.

"Battle stations," Killian muttered, standing straighter and nodding to himself.

"I'll go get the ladies!" Jefferson suddenly declared, jumping up and tugging on Lacey's wrist. He dragged her to where Emma was sitting and yanked her up, too. "My wingwomen, please go get ready. We're going lady hunting."

"One, no we're not," Emma explained, "And two, it's one in the afternoon."

Jefferson smiled. "Yes, we are. And if you want to look half as good as me, you probably want to start getting ready now."

"That's the spirit!" Killian cheered.

Jefferson tapped a finger in the air, making a small motion to encourage the three of them to huddle. When Emma made no move to join as Lacey bent closer to Jefferson, he huffed and wrapped his arm around the two of them until their heads were practically touching.

"Let's please not make this type of meeting a habit," Emma tried to shrug his arm off.

"Look, Killian's a dick-"

"Hey!"

"-But he needs us to get ladies to impress his weird friends. More importantly, _I_ need to find the love of my life before she finds someone new."

"The love of your life?" Lacey squealed. "That's so romantic."

"It really is, Lace. She's perfect and I love her. But the problem is I don't remember her last name and I didn't get her number. But she's smoking fucking hot and I'm sure if we go to enough of the pubs around town we can find her."

"I'm glad you've found your soulmate and all," Emma rolled her eyes, "But I don't want to go on a pub crawl in the middle of the afternoon with you."

"That's okay, Emma!" Killian's voice broke Jefferson's need to keep them in a football huddle and Emma gladly skipped away from them until she was at the foot of the stairs. "You can come with me to the shops!"

Emma froze at the bottom step, groaning. "Fine." She stomped up the stairs, "Jefferson, I'll be ready in an hour."

Killian began to dish out other responsibilities and though Emma was pretty sure somewhere her adoptive mother was crying because she was putting on fake lashes before two p.m. on a Saturday, Emma was sure she had the best end of the deal.

~~~*~~~

It took them _hours_ and several drinks thrown in Jefferson's face, but eventually the trio stumbled into the union's bar and Jefferson gasped.

His arms shot out, stopping Emma and Lacey from walking further into the room. Emma's hands closed around his forearm to steady herself while Lacey tripped, barely keeping herself upright.

"That's her," Jefferson whispered. His tone was more reverent than Emma thought the situation called for, but to be fair, it was nearly past seven and they had been to every bar in town trying to find this unicorn of a girl.

"Which one?" She was _not_ excited- except, maybe she actually was. It was closing in on five hours of bar hopping and she was nearly as drunk as she was their first night here.

"Tamara," he sighed. "The one with the dark hair and the leather jacket. Just like at the fresher's fair. A badass princess."

"That one?" Lacey pointed to a leggy girl with her hair in a long braid. Jefferson narrowed his eyes to where she was pointing.

"Yes, definitely." He squinted. "Probably."

"She's pretty," Emma offered. Jefferson beamed as if she was complimenting him.

He cupped his hands around his mouth and hollered her name. "Tamara!"

The girl turned around and brightened. He rushed towards her and Lacey trailed behind. Emma jumped when she felt something buzzing in her bra- her phone- and she turned away from Jefferson and Lacey to reach down her shirt and pull it out.

"Where are you?" It was Killian calling, although she could barely make out his words through the thumping beat of the music.

"Why?"

"Because I promised Dave a party with numerous fit women. And yes, I may be attractive enough to carry an entire party, but I'm not a woman, Swan. I'm not a woman!"

"What?" Emma shouted into the phone. "I can't really hear you."

"It's raining men here, Swan." He told her matter-of-factly. "There are puddles of men and I am drowning in them."

Jefferson and Lacey came back towards her and she mouthed Killian's name to them, rolling her eyes. "Fine, Killian, we'll be there soon."

She hung up the phone while he was still growling out his _You better!_ And gave her attention to Jefferson.

"Where's the missus?" She asked, accepting the drink Lacey offered her.

"Going to the bathroom." Jefferson drank the shot in his hand, shaking his shoulders out. "Woo!"

"You're wasted," Lacey laughed, throwing her arm around his shoulder. "You're so drunk, Jeff, you're so drunk."

Jefferson kissed the top of her head. " _You're_ drunk, Lace."

Emma sipped at her beer. "You're both drunk." She ignored the pair as they laughed, quite loudly, and bounced on the balls of her feet to the music. The girl with the long braid was at the bar, leaning over to order another drink and Emma grinned. "Your lady is back!"

Jefferson spun around and Lacey fell onto Emma, sloshing her drink out of the glass.

"I'm going to kiss her," Jefferson grabbed Emma's drink and chugged it down, shoving the empty pint back into her hands. "Right bloody now."

He walked up to her while Emma and Lacey cheered, tapping her on her leather-clad shoulder and leaning in to kiss her, hands winding into the wisps around her braid as soon as she was turned towards him.

"Oh no," Lacey murmured, hand rising to cover her mouth.

"What?" Emma furrowed her eyebrows, looking between Jefferson's makeout session and Lacey's aghast expression. "She seems into it."

Lacey nodded, eyes still widely glued on her friend. "I'm sure whoever that is, _is_ enjoying it."

"What?" Emma watched, horrified, as Jefferson pulled back from the kiss to see a grinning stranger. The girl, now that Emma could see her from the front, bared little resemblance to the one Jefferson had been chatting up earlier, outside of the same hair and clothes.

"That's _not_ Tamara," Lacey said, gripping Emma's hand as they watched Jefferson recoil and a furious looking Tamara storm out of the bathroom and next to the girl he had kissed.

They were too far away to hear what was being said, but with Jefferson's back pushed against the bar and both girls standing directly in front of him. Even though Emma wasn't quite as drunk as Jefferson, she couldn't tell the girls apart from behind.

"This is really bad," Emma said, looking around and then tugging Lacey to an unoccupied table. It was in front of Jefferson, so they could see his flailing.

"Really bad," Lacey agreed, grabbing a handful of nuts from the bowl on the table. "Peanut?"

"Thanks," Emma cracked it open and chewed on the nut, watching Jefferson's head whip back and forth between the girls while he held up his hands pleadingly.

They sat there until all the peanuts were gone and Killian had texted Emma three times asking her to hurry before deciding to interrupt the lovers quarrel.

"Come on," Emma said to Lacey, slipping through the growing crowd to lay a hand on Jefferson's shoulder. "Can we continue this at the party?"

"The party!" Jefferson turned to the girls and smiled. "Want to come to our party?"

"It'll be _really_ cool," Lacey interjected.

The girls glanced at each other; both tossed their braids over their shoulders and then shrugged.

"Great," Emma clapped her hands together. "We've got girls now, so let's get back."

Emma wasn't sure that only two girls would appease Killian but Jefferson pleadingly trying to explain his case was hilarious enough a story that she was fairly certain he'd forgive her.

~~~*~~~

Perhaps Jefferson had been the only one bold enough to suggest actually going out and finding women, but Neal was starting to get just as impatient as Killian for him to return.

"Do you think they could move any slower?" Killian asked irritatedly, before taking a swig from his bottle of beer. "This party's going to be shit until they get here. What are Dave and Rob going to think? I'll be a fucking joke."

Neal rolled his eyes. He could see Robin and David through the crowd, and they seemed to be happy enough to just bounce along to the thumping bass, throwing their arms around wildly in a terrible imitation of dancing. He would have bet that neither of them even cared that Killian's party had less women than promised.

"I think they'll be happy as long as you keep my playlist going," Neal told him. "Now drink another beer and shut up."

Killian followed half of the advice, breaking open a can of beer, but Neal was starting to think that there was nothing in the world that could make him be quiet. "I bet they're not coming back," he announced after a few gulps of beer. "I bet they're… I don't know, having a threesome or something."

"I don't think they're doing that."

Killian mumbled something incoherent and took another swig of his beer. He didn't speak again until an unfamiliar guy wandered over, grabbing a can of beer from the six-pack on the table next to them.

"Hey," the man greeted. Killian and Neal exchanged a look, surprised he was speaking to them. "Do you know which people actually live in this house?"

"Uh, yeah," Neal answered. "We do. This is our party."

"Sorry about the lack of women," Killian immediately stated. Neal rolled his eyes as the other guy chuckled. "Hopefully that will be remedied soon."

"I'm not here for the party," the guy admitted, and Killian looked offended. "I'm Walsh."

Once again, Neal and Killian exchanged a look. The way he had said his name, it was like it should mean something to them. Killian had one eyebrow raised, confusion obvious on his face. "That's nice?"

Walsh had clearly expected more of a reaction. "Emma's Walsh? Emma's boyfriend?"

Neal's eyes widened and he turned to look at Killian, whose expression was completely blank. "Er, which Emma?" Neal asked. "We… we know a lot of Emma's."

"The one who lives here?"

From the look on Killian's face, he was just as surprised as Neal was by the announcement. Emma had never even said anything that suggested she had a boyfriend, and she definitely hadn't acted like she did. "Right," Neal stated. "Obviously. We've heard of you. What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to surprise her," Walsh told them. "Just because she's at uni doesn't mean we can't see each other regularly."

"So you're _not_ at uni?"

"No, I'm training as a carpenter," Walsh stated. "Hasn't Emma told you this?"

It seemed like Killian wasn't going to do anything but gape at Walsh, so Neal decided it was up to him to make sure nothing dramatic happened. After all, Neal doubted things would be pleasant if Walsh started to wonder why Killian seemed so thrown by his appearance.

"Well, you know, first week at uni," he stammered. "We've been so busy we've barely talked."

Killian shuffled awkwardly, and Neal sent him a quick, warning glare. He just had to hope Walsh bought his excuse, and Killian's discomfort was unlikely to help with that.

Walsh chuckled, and Neal let out a relieved sigh.. "Yeah, Emma said the workloads been pretty heavy. It's why I thought I'd surprise her. It sounds like she's barely managed to do anything but work all week."

"Well, your visit's definitely a surprise," Killian admitted, the first thing he'd said since Walsh's announcement. "If I were her boyfriend, maybe I'd have called. Especially if she's told you how busy she's been."

Neal subtly dug his elbow into Killian's side.

Walsh ignored him. "So I'm guessing you two must be Neal and Jefferson. Emma's mentioned you."

"This is Neal, but I'm not Jefferson," Killian replied. "I'm Killian."

"And you live here?" Walsh asked. "Emma's not mentioned you. I guess you haven't annoyed her enough yet for me to be treated to a rant about you."

Killian grimaced. He didn't seem to know how to react to Walsh, and Neal had to admit that he felt just as wrong-footed.

At least he hadn't shagged Walsh's girlfriend.

The three of them stood awkwardly for several minutes. Walsh had clearly expected a response from Killian, but he hadn't given one. Neal was just grateful for the loud music that stopped things from being too unpleasant.

"Look, there's Dave!" Killian said suddenly, when he'd clearly had too much of the uncomfortable atmosphere.

Neal didn't even bother to send Walsh an apologetic smile, hurrying off after Killian when he fled into the crowd. He followed him out into the hallway, leaning against the end of banister once Killian had sat down on the bottom step.

"Did you know?" Killian asked. "Because I didn't."

"That was obvious," Neal muttered. "And no. I knew she had someone she talked to on the phone occasionally, because I can't _not_ hear that through the cardboard between our rooms, but it never sounded like she was talking to a boyfriend."

Killian sighed heavily, just as the front door clattered open and Jefferson, accompanied by four girls, tumbled through, Lacey's drunken, shrill giggle announcing their arrival. Jefferson waved at them and then looped his arm around an unfamiliar girl's shoulder and led her through to the party. Lacey was clinging to the arm of the girl Jefferson had spent the Fresher's Fair flirting with, and after they'd followed Jefferson, Emma was the only one left with them in the hallway.

"Were you actually fucking waiting for us to get back?" she checked, shaking her head in disbelief. "I'd call you desperate if I didn't… no, wait. You're definitely desperate."

"We aren't waiting," Killian told her. "I just thought it might be a good idea if your first night fuck and your boyfriend weren't in the same room."

"What? My _boyfriend_?"

"Walsh?"

"What's he doing here?" Emma cried. "I didn't think-"

"Emma, babe!" She froze at the sound, a look of total panic dawning on her face. Neal peered past her to see Walsh emerging from the main room, and then he looked back to Killian to see that his gaze was locked with Emma's and he was slowly shaking his head.

She visibly relaxed, and when Walsh reached them, Neal was sure he noticed Emma grimace just before he kissed her.

"Walsh," she stated, once the very short kiss had come to an end. "Why are you here?"

"You could sound a bit happier to see me," Walsh pointed out, his arm around her waist as he held her to his side. "I thought I'd surprise you. I know it's only been a week, but I missed you."

"Right, that's…" Emma clearly didn't know what to say. "Don't you have work this weekend?"

"No, I just wanted to throw you off my scent," Walsh told her, nuzzling into her hair. "So I just told a very small lie. Now, how about we get away from this party and, well, catch up?"

Emma's smile was pained, but she nodded. "Can you just give me a minute? Maybe you could get me a beer?" Walsh nodded and walked away. Neal wasn't entirely sure he should stay in the hallway, because Emma and Killian looked like they really needed to talk, but they didn't seem to mind him being there. "I thought it was over. I was drunk and… that's why I've been so..."

"Prickly?" Killian suggested. Emma glared. He scratched at the back of his neck, before sighing. "You broke up?"

"Well, I thought we were probably going to break up," she answered sheepishly. "He's all the way back home and I didn't think he'd be bothered to visit! I thought it would just… come to an end and we'd never have to talk about it."

"So that's a no, then."

Walsh came back then, one uncapped bottle of beer in his hands. At his reappearance, Killian stood from the stairway and started back towards the main room. Emma caught his wrist before he could walk away. "Sorry we didn't bring back many women."

"Doesn't matter," Killian excused and then, as soon as he and Neal were back amongst the crowd of guests, Neal heard him mutter something else. "I don't feel much like partying anyway."

When Neal looked back over his shoulder and saw Emma and Walsh fused together in a kiss, his hands on her ass, he had to agree.


End file.
